


Dick & Damian, the Adventures of

by Ladelle



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Batfam Bonding, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 11:32:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6516823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladelle/pseuds/Ladelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place to collect drabbles focusing on the Dick/Damian dynamic, which I adore and miss terribly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dick & Damian, the Adventures of

Damian can’t help but wonder if this is how he will always feel. There’s snow falling outside and the sky is one messy stroke of gray. It’s night, and the storm is pretty bad, but it’s almost Christmas so no one seems to care. Everyone acts they way they always do, but there are secrets hidden in their smiles, and its enough to drive Damian insane.

He’s not happy like they are. He’s irritated. And more than that, even if he hates to admit it, he feels a bit like an outsider.

Dick smiles at him and tells him to cheer up; that he won’t get any presents from Santa if he’s such a grouch. Damian feels bad telling Dick that Santa isn’t real, until he realizes that the joke was on him.

This just makes him angrier.

Cold air seeps through the fabric of Damian’s sweater as he stalks around the mansion, catching Alfred as he slices vegetables in the kitchen, witnessing a smile that comes and goes with his passing thoughts. The batgirls argue over ornaments while they set the table, dusting off the most expensive dishware in Wayne Manor for the meal ahead.

Bruce finally arrives with Tim, and Damian hears Dick boast that the family is complete.

Except Damian sits at the top of the staircase and listens to everyone laugh and share jokes, and simply curls forward, wondering how he has so little fear of death and so much fear of being a part of everything he hears below.

Damian wonders what makes him feel this way.

“What are you doing?” Tim catches him moping, and Damian doesn’t jump, but on the inside, his pulse speeds up. It frustrates him that Tim looks happy, but that his eyes are knitted with concern.

“Obviously,” he snorts, “I’m staying out of the way.”

This seems to confuse Tim, who glances towards the commotion before looking back at him. “Does Dick know you’re hiding?”

A moment passes where Damian decides that while Tim may be a masterful detective, his assumptions are unwelcome. “Shove it, Drake.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” there is no sarcasm in Tim’s voice, but Damian doesn’t want to believe he is being sincere.

“I’ll get him,” Tim offers, and Damian doesn’t try and stop him. It’s frustrating, he thinks, as he rests his chin on the palm of his hand and bites his forefinger. It’s not fair that he can be so fearless and capable and then—as soon as the world is bigger than he and Dick—his resolve seems to crumble.

About ten minutes after Tim disappears, Dick shows up. He looks worried, and all of his cheer has slipped through the cracks. Damian hates to admit that he likes this look. He likes seeing this expression—the one Dick only wears for him.

“What’s going on, kiddo?”

 

Damian scoffs. He hates being treated like a kid, even when he knows that Dick respects him. “Nothing. Drake is delusional." 

Dick is at the bottom of the staircase, looking like he needs permission to come closer. Damian just sighs and lets his guard drop—only slightly—because he wants Dick to come closer, and he knows that this will draw him in.

The stairs creak as Dick climbs them, even though he’s just wearing socks, and—Damian’s brows knit in distaste—one of the toes have a hole.

“You’re making my foot feel self conscious,” Dick jokes, and he doesn’t bother to fix the obvious obscenity. Damian doesn’t look at him, or even answer, he just sits, unmoving, staring at the bottom of the staircase because it’s all he’s got to look at if he’s not going to stare at Dick.

An arm drapes over his shoulder and suddenly Damian’s pulled into an embrace. His heart jackhammers as he feels Dick against him—warm, even through a thick knitted sweater. Dick’s chin rests on his head, and Damian can feel his chest rising with every inhalation of air, and thanks whatever gods there are that his expression is hidden, because he’s sure he’s flushed.

“Are you nervous?”

The guess is too accurate, so of course, Damian denies it. “Tch. Yes, Grayson. Dinner parties absolutely terrify me.”

Dick’s fingers are hot around his arm, and they tighten, and suddenly Damian can’t tell if Dick’s seen through him or if he’s just concerned.

“You can’t hide up here all night,” Dick points out, and Damian watches snowflakes fall beyond the entryway window, thick like cotton balls. “Eventually someone’s going to come drag you down there.”

“Like you?” Damian asks.

Dick makes a noise that is meant to sound thoughtful, but instead sounds a bit reprimanding. “I’d be happier if you came because you wanted to.”

Damian feels it again—his gut twists in a way that isn’t entirely unpleasant, but it’s something he never felt before meeting Dick, so it makes him feel strange.

He decides to admit something else that’s been bothering him.

“I didn’t get you a present.”

Dick’s grip loosens, and suddenly he’s shifting, and they’re both looking at each other. Dick’s eyes are a fascinating sort-of blue, and they look even more vivid when his lashes fall to frame them—and when he looks at Damian—really looks at Damian—the kid feels like he’s been all figured out.

“Is that what you’re upset about?”

Damian knows it’s only a tiny part of a bigger picture. Just a smaller piece of how he feels like he’s missed out on having a family his entire life, and that all of the hustle and bustle for the holiday reminds him that he’s happy where he’s at, and for some reason, he’s uncomfortable with it.

“Damian,” Dick sounds serious. “Honestly, just having you here with the family makes me happy.”

Damian rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to say something snide about generic answers, but Dick’s already talking again. “And even if you don’t believe me—“

“It’s not that I didn’t want to,” Damian interrupts. “I had no idea what to get.”

Damian wonders if that means he doesn’t know Dick as well as the others, even if he feels like he knows him best of all.

Dick watches him, but strangely, he’s smiling.

“What?” Damian demands, agitated, because he feels insecure and Dick’s just grinning at him, like it’s nothing.

“Nothing,” Dick says, and Damian hates when he does that, because there’s obviously something going on that he just doesn’t want to admit.

“You’re a good kid,” Dick says with contentment, and he runs his fingers through Damian’s hair and stands up. He extends his hand and Damian looks at it, knowing that he’s being invited to the thing happening in the other room—the fun, the laughter, the family. 

Dick is smiling at him, and he says the magic words: “I want you to be there.”

That’s all it takes for Damian to decide that he wants to be there, too.


End file.
